Episode IV: Return of the Jedi
by Artriel
Summary: One of the first force users ever to exist has been transported to the time of Luke Skywalker's first steps into rebelhood. Will he ever get home? Will he walk the path of good or evil? I own nothing
1. Ancient Rivalry

Welcome to my 2nd fic. Enjoy

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George stood between Sam and his friends, white lightsabre at the ready. "We've done this before Sam. I'm not going to let you live again," he said. Looking behind him at his cousin Sarah he said,"You get everybody else out of here. I know what I have to do."

Sarah shook her dirty blonde head, getting her hair out of her eyes. "Alright," she replied. "If you don't make it, this was your decision. Let's go guys."

"Are you done yet? I want a clean fight you know," moaned Sam. He drew his own lightsabre and activated it, causing a red blade to emerge.

George stared. Swinging his lightsabre around in circles, he asked,"How'd you get your sword to be red?"

Sam chuckled. If you can beat me and take it I'm sure you'll figure it out kid, but that's probably not going to happen. He too swung his sabre in circles, walking toward George with a cocky air.

George smirked. "So confident. How many times do I have to whip your ass?" He brought his sabre to his shoulder, the blade pointing at Sam, and charged. Swinging the blade in a downward arc, he attempted to take out Sam's mechanical leg, but his attempt was thwarted by the red blade, which proceeded to stab where George's heart would have been had he not anticipated the move and done a matrix bullet dodge, using own blade to block the swift downward thrust that immediatly followed. He fell to his back and, using his legs as channels of momentum, jumped back up holding his lightsabre in front of him to assure Sam would back off. The two combatants took five steps back, and charged at eachother again. This time Sam was able to attack first. He opened with an attempted attack on George's legs from the right that was blocked. He then jumped high into the air, swinging his blade up as he went. George was just able to backflip out of the way, and was somehow able to get his footing and block the attack Sam had planned as a finisher coming down. He half-heartedly attempted a horizontal slash that George easily blocked, and jumped backwards to evade the attack George had launched in the form of a stab.

Once again the two fighters backed off eachother. Rather than just charging at eachother again however, they began circling their grassy battlefield. "So what's it about this time Sam? Money or revenge?" asked George.

"Oh, so you think you've figured me out huh punk?" Sam asked fiercely. He dropped out of his ready position and brought a hand to his ear. "Hear that?" he jeered.

George listened. There was a rather annoying bird in a nearby tree. Was that what Sam was jeering about? And then he heard it. The unmistakable whirring of a helicopter. Several helicopters. 'How did they know?'

Seeing the discomfort on George's face, Sam let out a maniacle laugh. "With you out of the picture who's gonna sweet talk those copters and get your little group out of here? Nobody, that's who! You'll all be captured and put through what I was put through. I started training as a four year old. I wonder how you damn teenagers will respond to the constant tests and drills? And all I have to do here is wear you out."

George was at a loss for words. 'Fuck. FUCK!' he thought. 'I've gotta get out of here.' He deactivated his lightsabre and, using the power of the great being whom resided within him(the force), took off running at over fourty miles per hour. Or at least he would have, if Sam had not hit him with a powerful surge of lightning. He went down hard, pain searing through his body. George was about to try to get up, but Sam hit him with another powerful electric blast. He could no longer feel his ligaments. 'NO!' he thought. 'FUCK!'

Sam walked over to George's body, pulsating smugness with every step. "Looks like you lose this time kid," he drawled.

"Fuck you." George managed to gasp. "What happened to a fair fight?"

"Haha, you really thought I would come through on that one? I thought you were smarter than that kid." Sam said, imitating George's gasping, rasping voice in the last sentence. He sat down next to George's body and whispered in his ear,"It's probably better that it happened this way. Mabey your little friends will be more willing to cooperate if they know their leader is hurt."

'That motherfucking basterd! FUCKING SON OF A BITCH!' George's pure anger and hate combined into an aura that pulsated from his body and knocked Sam back fifteen feet into the tree with the bird, who had flown away at the sight of the lightning. Using the force and the currently unfathomable anger and hate within him, George floated up into a standing position (though his feet were a few inches off the ground), and concentrated the negative emotions into a fireball within his hands. As the fireball grew, his murderous rage became grim determination, and he hurled the fireball into Sam. It exploaded.

Whether or not the flame had killed Sam, George would not find out as he passed out completely soon after the administration of the flame had occured. As a matter of fact, nobody ever saw George Skywalker for a while after that. The force had plans for him that didn't involve getting captured and turned into a slave by the U.S. government.

The next person to see George was a man in white armor on the surface of tatooine. 'What the hell?' the man thought to himself. 'What happened to this kid?' He decided that the kid was probably not going to survive out here and, as any relatively good person would, he took the tattered teenager back to the ship on the outskirts of Tatooine.

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Well, there you go. RNR please. I don't care if you flame, but don't be stupid about it if you do.


	2. Tatooine?

I don't own any Star Wars stuff. The OC's are mine, but I'm only really using George for this story so there.

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"Wake up kid." It was a metalic voice. Distorted. Wrong. George Valcron opened his eyes. The sight that befell him almost made him wet himself. A white helmeted something was right in front of his face. The helmet had an equally white body attached to it, making a perfect little robot person.

"Ahh!" He yelled, recoiling in suprise. He was in a very sandy room. A tent. Upon further inspection of his surroundings, George found that the tent/room was full of objects he didn't understand. He himself was in a bed. George suddenly awoke to a new sensation. He was hot. He was sweating. He looked around frantically for a few seconds and decided to address the robot man who had woken him up. "What the hell? Where am I? Why am I here? You got a glass of iced water!"

The Robot-man looked at him strangely, cocking his to one side. He clearly hadn't expected this kind of behavior. "No time to explain, just put these on," he said, showing George a pair of what looked like a pair handcuffs, but somebody had broken off half of each restraint rendering it useless. "Why?" he asked.

Robot man didn't like that. "Just put them on. If you get caught here we both die. We're in an imperial camp. I'll explain everything when we get out." Seeing that he was in a bad situation, George held out his hands, wondering who the hell this guy was trying to fool with his little "half-cuffs." After partially securing the cuffs to George's wrists, the white armored man pressed a button that was on the chain that held the cuffs together. A blue energy immediatly became the halves the cuffs had been missing. 'What the hell?' George thought. 'Cool.' It bewildered him. He'd never seen this type of thing before. 'Mabey it's magic?'

Armor Man had walked out after activating the handcuffs, but by the time George had gotten over the handcuffs he had returned with what looked like a gun. It kinda looked like a toy really, but after seeing what a useless pair of handcuffs had become, George didn't doubt for a second that he should shy away from it. This would have been fine if not for the fact that Mr. Roboto was now behind him with the gun practically digging into his back. "I'll tap your shoulder blades to tell you when to turn. If I stop, you stop. Don't pay any heed to what I say outside this tent. Got all that?"

George nodded, and exited the tent. The first thing he noticed was that they were in the middle of a desert. The sun was high in the sky, and while he didn't know how hot hell was, this place gave him a better idea. He had come out of a relatively small tent. Simmilar tents were scattered randomly around as far as he could see. Every once in a while there was a more exquisit tent, but this was hardly the scenery George was looking at. Hundreds of white armored people with guns that looked just like his mock captor's were spread around area. Some had orange shoulder cover things and were riding...what were they riding? George took a closer look, still walking in the direction the original Mr. Roboto were giving him. It looked like some kind of lizard, like a basalisk from his DND books or something. The big difference was that it only had four legs.

George had become so enthralled with the big lizard he had tuned out the now frantic jabs to his left shoulder blade by Roboto. He collided with a different white armored man. The armored man had to take a few steps back in order to steady himself, but George, who had been in his own world riding one of those large lizards, fell to the sand. Shit.

The Armored person who George had collided with had straightened himself and was now yelling George's "captor" (who will from here on out be refered to as Fred). "Damn it Fred, watch what your shit is doing won't you? What the fuck his this," he paused melodramatically, trying to find the right words,"Urchin doing inside the base anyway?"

"I caught the little basterd sneaking into our food supply," Fred furiously asserted,"I'm going to give him his just desserts." Fred's voice had dropped to a dangerous and pissed off tone. 'I really fucking hope he's just a good actor,' George thought.

This answer seemed to appease the other soldier, as he grinned (though nobody but he knew it) and looked down at George, who was just attempting to get to his feet. With a maniacal mechanical laugh, he kicked George back into the sand. "Not so sneaky now are ya you little bugger?" He laughed again and continued on the path he had been on before being oh so rudely interrupted.

"Ass," George whispered, finally managing to get to his feet. The rest of the "tour" of the imperial base was without incident. As night fell the tents started becoming less and less common, until they were no more. When the last tent was out of sight, Fred took off his helmat. He turned out to be extremely light white, as if he hadn't seen the sun in a while. 'Kind of like Curran' George thought. Fred had blue eyes and short red hair. He looked to be about 21.

"Alright kid, I'm sure you've got questions coming out of your ears, so shoot."

"OK, where am I? What country? How did I get here? The last thing I remember was in a grassy plane setting. What's happe-" George started, but Fred cut him off-"Hold on kid, one at a time."

George inhaled, exhailed, and was calm. "OK, where am I? What country?"

Fred frowned at this. "What do you mean by country? Tatooine doesn't have any oceans. So you don't live here then? I didn't think so. Clothing was to wierd."

"Tatooine? No oceans? What? What about Earth? And I have a terrific fasion sense thank you very much. Tracy McGrady is the shit. He was infact wearing a red #1 Houston Rockets Tracy McGrady jearsey, no undershirt, and black knee-length gym shorts.

"Earth? Now you're the one confusing me. It isn't in this star system. Is it a moon?"

"Star system!" George interrupted. He was starting to get frantic again. "What do you mean star system? This is a different planet? Where the hell did you find me?"

"You were unconcious in the sand when I found you. I thought you had died of dehydration, but you were fine, so I took you to base. As you saw however, you aren't welcome there. See those lights?" Fred indicated a distant, but very visible lights in the direction the sun had set. George nodded. "Alright, that's Mos Eisley. You go there. It should be safer than not being anywhere. You'd better go quickly, dust storms in this place are very dangerous. Find a place to stay. Oh yeah," he said, producing a sack from somewhere,"This is what you had on you when I found you. Good luck."

George took a final look at Fred. "Look man, I don't even know what your name is, but you helped me out a lot. Thanks a lot. If there was anything I could do to repay you..."

Fred blushed. "Don't worry about it. I know what it's like to be left high and dry in the desert. Hurry along now, you never know when the next sand storm will hit."

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And so George set off for Mos Eisley. What happens next? I don't know yet, tune in next time. RNR. 


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